


all love's luxuries (are here for you and me)

by allimarie_xf



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Arrow (TV 2012) Season 3, Canon Related, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Feelings, Infidelity, PLEASE READ THAT LAST TAG AGAIN, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smangst, Smut, Tropes, also angst to the highest degree, canon adjacent, infidelity but NOT between Oliver and Felicity, okay consider yourselves warned please, sex to get it out of our system
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2020-09-23 02:56:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20332912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allimarie_xf/pseuds/allimarie_xf
Summary: “One time.”“What?”“One time, to get it out of our systems.”“Felicity -” she doesn’t cut him off, but he stops because he has no idea what he planned to say. “Is that really a good idea?” Because despite everything he wants it. Oh god, he wants her.“No, it’s probably a terrible idea. But it can’t be worse than this.”OR:The angsty smutty tropey one-time-to-get-it-out-of-our-systems season 3 fic that no one asked for!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter epigraphs taken from Halo by Depeche Mode. (I prefer [the original ](https://youtu.be/WgWtJyZQSyE) but the [Goldfrapp remix](https://youtu.be/G2HaMMcsMho) is also really good and maybe more fitting for the tone of this fic).
> 
> UPDATED NOTE as of August 2020: If you are new to this fic, welcome!! :D If you are returning, thank you _so_ much for coming back despite my (very) long hiatus. I will post a more detailed update about my long neglect of this story with my chapter 4 notes, but I just wanted to say here, with no preamble: 
> 
> THIS FIC CONTAINS INFIDELITY (not between Oliver and Felicity, but still, absolute, no-other-word-for-it, infidelity). I have my reasons for this - basically, this story is the result of asking myself, "What would happen if I just _leaned into_ the canon angst of season 3? What would happen if Felicity's _technical_ (because yes, I believe she is canonically emotionally unfaithful to Ray in season 3) infidelity didn't _stay_ technical?"
> 
> I know that kind of emotional messiness and angst isn't for everyone (hell, it's not for me all the time, which is part of the reason why this story has been so difficult to write), so I don't mind if you skip this one. (I have a lot of other smutty fics you might like to read, for example ;) HOWEVER, if you love that delicious angst that (I think) naturally arises when you have obstacles getting in the way of a love as epic as Oliver and Felicity's, then please read on :) Hopefully it will all be worth it.
> 
> Plus, there's smut. _Soooo much smut._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with amazing art by [LiteraLi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteraLi)!! 🥰

_ _

_You wear guilt_  
_Like shackles on your feet_  
_Like a halo in reverse_  


The second most handsome man in the room had been pursuing her all night, and Felicity had half a mind to let him catch her for real.

The plan, as far as it went, was for her to let him catch her for the sake of the mission, so she could slip a trojan onto his phone. But he was tall and broad, with dark hair and green eyes that kept raking over her body, and the question of whether or not he was accepting bribes from the Mafia on behalf of his boss, Senator Kaplan, was still very much undecided. 

And Felicity was in a mood to play the odds. 

“I’ve never seen you at one of these things before,” he drawled from behind her, when she eventually decided to end the chase in a secluded corner of the ballroom.

She closed her eyes, giving him a moment to appreciate the almost indecent plunge of her nearly-backless dress before turning around. “It’s my first time,” she replied with a playfully arched eyebrow. 

She inhaled surreptitiously, breathing in his masculine scent. He smelled good. Not Oliver-good, but different-good, which is what she wanted. Not that she should really be entertaining those thoughts while on a mission, and especially not in regards to the target. If Oliver had any idea what was going on in her head, he’d pull her out of the field faster than you could say “control issues.” 

She leaned in closer to him, brushing against him as she offered her hand. “I’m Megan.”

“Nick,” he purred, drawing her knuckles to his lips. 

Oliver had objected to this plan of course, claiming it put her in too much danger, but Felicity was more than done with letting Oliver make decisions for her, and in this she had made it absolutely clear where he could stick his opinion. Wisely, he had backed off.

She struck up a conversation with Nick, flirting outrageously, reveling in his obvious and straightforward appreciation of her body. His gaze somehow made her feel both seen and anonymous at the same time, as if she might be able to remake herself into the sultry, carefree woman that he saw. It was a look so different from what she had grown used to, deep blue eyes that watched her with a penetrating detachment, seeing all the things she would prefer to keep hidden.

Except that wasn’t exactly true. _ You were the first person that I could see as a person, _he had confided, turning her world on its head in an instant with heart-stoppingly earnest eyes that invited her in.

But then he had taken that invitation back. _ Don’t ask me to say that I don’t love you, _ he had said, twisting the confession in a way she never would have expected. She wondered bitterly why it even surprised her, though; Oliver had always had a remarkable ability to turn the most benign things into weapons.

She could feel him watching her now, and she knew there wasn’t a single detail of her interaction with Nick that escaped his notice. Every smile, every laugh, every flirtatious touch was catalogued. She knew it without having to check because she knew _ him. _

She would be lying if she said it didn’t make her feel an odd sort of power: Oliver Queen - _ the Oliver Queen _ \- was completely, utterly, and unshakably focused on her. He might not be the billionaire he once was, but he was still (by far) the most handsome man in the room - a fascinating blend of mystery, power, charm, and sex appeal. He could have any woman in the room he wanted, judging by the endless stream of leggy model-types clamoring for his attention, yet it was clear, as he deftly and charmingly dodged them one by one, that they didn’t even register on his radar. He only had eyes for her. No one could blame her for taking a certain amount of satisfaction in that knowledge. 

She wondered, not for the first nor certainly the last time since their ill-fated date, why he tortured himself by watching her so carefully. Was it simply another manifestation of that predictable Oliver Queen masochism? Or was he trying to convince himself that his sacrifice was worth it, searching for evidence that she could find something better, someone better? She didn’t have a single doubt that it _ was _ torture for him; as much as his lips told her they couldn’t be together, his penetrating eyes told her he couldn’t stand to let her go. But even with all his careful watching, he couldn’t see that she didn’t _ want _something more, someone better. Oliver Queen or the Arrow - regardless of his name, he was enough.

Lowering her lashes and smiling alluringly at Nick, she let him lead her onto the dance floor, taking care to keep her back to Oliver so he could see every exposed inch of her retreat. His unilateral decision that they couldn’t be together hurt him, but it hurt her too, and fuck if tonight she wasn’t going to take a terrible sort of pleasure in every last second of his pain.

* * *

She stepped out of the ladies room thirty minutes later, congratulating herself on her successful undercovering and considering whether or not to give in to the reckless impulse to return to Nick so that his roaming hands could finish what they started. She was trying to convince herself it had nothing to do with Oliver - nothing to do with the open jealousy she’d seen snapping in his eyes all night - when suddenly he was there, pushing off the wall where he’d been casually leaning, and resting a warm palm on the bare skin of her back.

_ Oh. _

He towered over her, stepping in close as if making up for the forced distance he’d maintained all night. Before she could stop herself, she mentally stacked him up against green-eyed Nick, but of course there was no comparison. Oliver’s chastest touch could never be anything but intimate, and his familiar scent triggered an answering ache between her legs. Everything in her yearned toward him, but she resisted his pull, because he couldn’t be the Arrow and be with her, and she refused to hang around waiting for him to come to his senses.

“Felicity,” he murmured several charged seconds later, after it was clear that she wasn’t going to speak to him unprompted. His tone throbbed with things she was pretty sure he’d never say out loud. 

She steeled her shoulders, wishing it were as easy to steel her heart. “What do you want, Oliver?” she asked tiredly. 

He didn’t respond in words, but he somehow stepped closer to her, the heat of his body surrounding her, communicating his desire to touch her, be close to her. It was answer enough. After a moment, his other hand gently claimed her hip. Felicity’s heart thudded in response and she forced herself to close her eyes and be still. 

She waited for him to pull away, trying to block out the shivery pleasure of his rough fingertips resting on sensitive skin. Eyes closed and heart pounding, she waited for him to remember that he was the one who had said _ this life that I’ve chosen, it only ends one way. _ She knew it was only a matter of time until he did remember. For all that he couldn’t bear to witness another man flirting with her, touching her, dancing with her, he would never let himself be with her. She had learned that the hard way, and she refused to be taken in again. 

He sucked in a breath and she braced herself for his lame excuse, but instead he brushed his nose against her ear. “Dance with me.”

Her stomach dropped at the almost-inaudible words, spoken so quietly she was almost positive she imagined it, except never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined him saying that, and especially not in that strained tone that immediately assaulted her resolve.

She couldn’t think of how to respond, so she said the first thing that popped into her brain, desperately reaching for any possible defense. “You don’t dance, Oliver, I’ve seen you at a dozen of these things and you never….”

The hand that was on her back slipped to her other hip, and his grip tightened. “Please,” he pressed, and it was the hitching breath he took afterwards, more than the request itself, that made up her mind. 

She signaled her assent by dropping her head and relaxing her body just a tiny bit, and she both heard and felt the tension leave him on a tiny exhale. Then he ushered her onto the dance floor, his hands gripping her possessively as he turned her body toward his.

They didn’t talk, because the only words Oliver’s decision had left them were painful half-truths, so instead he guided her steps with small touches, which, between them, had never been anything but honest. 

It was the first time they’d ever danced together, and the easy intimacy that had always come so naturally took over as Oliver wrapped his arms around Felicity’s body. They had been practicing for years, in fleeting everyday touches, in comforting hands on shoulders, and in brief hugs of relief when nothing less would suffice, but this was the first time that they held each other simply for the pleasure of it. She tucked her head against his shoulder and they swayed, letting everything else fade to the background. 

Oliver dipped his head and brushed his nose against hers, letting his hands slide down the length of her body. She slipped her hands under his jacket, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin shirt underneath. She let her fingers stray along his suspenders, her knuckles brushing against smooth muscles, and she pretended not to notice the strangled groan he released at her touch. 

It didn’t take long for their breaths to synchronize, and Felicity enjoyed the simple comfort of Oliver’s warmth, his smell. She didn’t think about things like the fact that she missed him, missed the tender look in his eyes and the low tone of his voice and the tiny upturned curve of his lips. Instead she traced her fingertips along his neck, over his shoulders, around his waist, under his coat.

She let herself enjoy the feeling of his hands sifting through her hair, let him tip her chin up so he could rest his forehead against hers, and she even let herself sigh. And when he laid his lips on her forehead and simply danced on, she didn’t pull away. 

And it was good. The lengthwise press of his body was _ so, so good, _ offering an overwhelming sense of safety and completion that she chose not to examine too closely. Instead, she closed her eyes and floated. 

The perfect moment stretched from heartbeat to heartbeat, until eventually the music stopped and the lights came back up and everyone started to go home. 

They were the last people on the dance floor when she gathered the courage to meet Oliver’s gaze, and she should not have been surprised by what she found there, but she had been lulled by the steady thrum of his heart beating against her chest all night. He was looking down at her with an unspoken apology that cut her so deep it left her gasping. It hurt more than she could have expected. 

But she should have known better, so she nodded and stepped back, rejecting the sympathy she could read in his eyes, and went home alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I'm wrong I say I'm wrong and I was _wrong._ There is clearly a _thirst_ for season 3 angst that I did not anticipate, and I LIKE IT! Truly, thank you all for your enthusiasm! It most definitely inspired me to get this second chapter to you as quickly as possible :D

_There's a pain_  
_A famine in your heart_  
_An aching to be free_

Oliver crawled into Felicity’s bed sometime before dawn a few weeks later, and she rolled over and made room for him, letting him settle around her and pull her back against his chest before her brain fully woke up and protested.

Her body, on the other hand, did the opposite of protesting. She instinctively pressed her backside into the cradle of his hips, wrapped a foot around his calf, and sighed as his fingers strayed under the hem of her shirt to caress the bare skin underneath.

“Oliver!” she exclaimed after her mind had caught up on events, “what are you doing?” Meanwhile she was trying to find the motivation to pull away as he pressed his face against her neck.

“Felicity,” he said in a broken tone, “I just need to….” He trailed off, burying his head further into her hair.

Felicity’s surprise instantly gave way to concern, and she relaxed. Oliver-seeking-comfort was familiar, safe. Even if he was in her bed. She waited for him to explain further, but when he inhaled deeply and absently began to stroke her stomach, she decided to let him hold her for as long as he needed.

“It’s Thea,” he said eventually, when the silence had settled comfortingly around them. “I confronted her as the Arrow like you suggested, and she...,” Felicity felt every inch of his helpless shrug, “she fought me.” His breath hitched. “And she was _ good.” _

He squeezed Felicity tighter as he waited for the meaning of his words sink in, as if preemptively bracing himself against the conclusions he knew she would draw. “Malcolm trained her while she was in Corto Maltese,” she stated slowly.

“Yes,” Oliver confirmed, his stubble roughing against her skin as he nodded, “and I’m afraid of what it could mean.” His hand traveled in a slow sweep from her stomach to her hip and down her leg and back again, raising goosebumps in its wake. Felicity suppressed a shiver, forcing herself to focus on Thea’s situation. She was here for moral support, nothing more. 

“We don’t know for sure,” she began, hesitant to suggest what they were both thinking, even though she had been the one who had earlier argued that Thea could have killed Sara.

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know,” he cut in, preventing her from getting any more specific than that. “It’s _ Thea,” _he said simply, forlornly.

His helplessness broke Felicity’s heart, and she reached back to comb her fingers through his hair, wishing there was some way to make this better for him. But for all her hacking skills, and all his strength and courage, even with their complementary skills combining effortlessly into something that sometimes seemed like magic, she knew there was no way to give Thea back her innocence. There was no way for any of them to get it back. 

Oliver took a steadying breath, picking up his train of thought. “But it can’t be anything good. And I know I need to confront Malcolm, I need to face...whatever it is that I suspect I have to face, but….” He trailed off, his thumb absently playing with the hem of her sleep shorts. He remained silent for so long that Felicity decided he wasn’t going to finish the thought, until his voice, barely audible, drifted out of the darkness. “Just for tonight, I want to forget.”

Felicity sucked in a stuttering breath at the implication of his words. They’d never come close to crossing that line - even their disaster of a first kiss had remained well on this side of chaste - but the suggestion of _ more _was never very far away. It was an undercurrent of every look, every touch, every word spoken and unspoken. “Oliver,” she warned, “we can’t….”

“I know, Felicity,” he quickly reassured her, “I know. I’m not saying...that.” He sounded certain, controlled, and that would have been enough to put her at ease, except his actions contradicted his words. As if acting on its own accord, his hand smoothed down the length of her body and caught on the waistband of her sleep shorts, drawing them slowly, fractionally, down. 

Felicity’s pulse sped up as the pads of his fingers crept along her exposed hip bone and then continued to inch lower. The moment lingered and stretched, narrowing down to the feeling of skin against skin as he caressed her deliberately, thoughtfully. Felicity remained motionless, not encouraging him but not pushing him away, either, waiting on the outcome of his silent, internal battle.

She had told him they couldn’t, but the truth was, they _ could. _ And in the face of his wavering resolve, hers was on the verge of crumbling, too. Her body, for its part, had long since given up the fight. Every inch of her felt full, tight, and electrictrified, from her straining nipples to her swollen clit to the hot pool that was collecting in her underwear, and it would be easy, _ so, so easy, _ to press back against his motionless hips, drawing attention to the thick erection nestled quietly against her ass that they’d both been ignoring up to that point.

But then he removed his hand from her shorts and rested it decisively on her waist. “I’m just saying, to sleep,” he said roughly, taking a moment to clear his throat. “If you don’t mind.” He soothed his warm palm over her clothed hip in a final, regretful caress. 

Felicity released a shaky breath, trying to wrestle her emotions back into appropriate territory. Trying to feel relief instead of disappointment. “Okay.”

He let out a prolonged, shuddery breath as well, and reached up to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. His hand drifted back down to rest over her stomach and he nuzzled against her head. “Thank you, Felicity,” he murmured belatedly.

They lay quietly for long minutes, the silence settling peacefully, breaths slowing and synchronizing. He found one of her hands with his, and he absently began combing the other through her hair. It was funny, if also a little bit unfair, Felicity thought, that even now they could so easily find comfort in each other's arms. In no one else's arms, frankly. A part of her wanted to make an issue of it, to scream that it meant something - that it meant _ everything. _ But the larger part of her was simply enjoying the feeling of being close to him too much to risk it.

“So, you and Ray Palmer,” he said eventually, and she immediately tensed in response. So much for just enjoying the moment. He seemed to anticipate her response, though, because he didn't stop his soothing touches for even a second. 

After a beat, she turned a little toward him so she could look him in the eye. His face was very close to hers. “Me and Ray Palmer what?” she asked flatly.

His eyes dropped away from hers and he pressed his lips together. “You and Ray Palmer are together now?”

The question legitimately astonished her, and she turned fully toward him, dropping his hand and tipping his chin up so he had to meet her eye. “What makes you think that?” she asked, the barest suggestion of sarcasm evident as her eyes dropped down to encompass him, and them, in her bed, and all the unspoken things between them that kept them apart but wouldn’t let them get far, either.

He at least had the decency to look ashamed. His eyes were on her lips as he explained, “I saw you, that night after your date, I -”

“What date?” She maneuvered an arm between their bodies so she could poke him in the chest. “Oliver, there was no date. I told you already, he needed me to go with him to a work dinner, so -”

“But you kissed him,” he argued, confused and maybe a tiny bit hopeful.

“I - how do you know that?”

He blinked, and a tiny part of her rejoiced, despite herself, that he wasn’t hiding his vulnerability. “Because I went to your office, and I...I _ saw.” _

Their breaths mingled as she stared at him, inches apart, not knowing what to say. His eyes were honest and raw and hurting, swirling with questions she knew he was afraid to ask. She could feel his heart pounding under her fingertips.

She considered the kiss she’d shared with Ray, tried to think of a way to explain it that didn’t sound defensive, because _ she had every right, dammit, _ but the reality was that she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about how poorly it compared to the kiss she’d shared with Oliver. His lips urgent and alive, his hands cradling her with the perfect mix of gentleness and desire. And she knew that, if started talking about her kiss with Ray, she would end up telling him that it meant nothing, that it could never compare to how she’d felt when he’d pressed his lips against hers. But even if he deserved to know that - which he didn’t - there was no safe way she could tell him. Not while they were pressed up against each other again, in such a similar position as that life-changing kiss, when the risk of a repeat was so high. She couldn’t bear a repeat of what had come after.

Instead, she asked, “Why did you come to my office?”

“I -” Oliver hesitated, caught wide-eyed, and Felicity could tell that he was cursing his inability to lie to her. “I was going to tell you,” he confessed, his gaze sweeping up from her lips, “that I…” he trailed off helplessly, eyes shifting between hers and begging her to understand.

Felicity nodded slowly, accepting the words he couldn’t say, and his reasons for not saying them. She reached up and smoothed the backs of her knuckles against his cheek, and he closed his eyes, his hand finding her waist, and pulled her closer to him, leaning his forehead against hers. 

She took a deep breath and said on the exhale, “Ray and I are not together. He kissed me, and it was nice.” His fingers tightened their grip on her, and she continued, falteringly, “But it wasn’t...he’s not,” she sighed in frustration. “We’re not together,” she concluded. 

He nodded, and because their foreheads were still pressed together she nodded with him. Then he lifted his head and pressed a long kiss to her forehead before pulling her in for a tight hug, stroking his fingers through her hair. 

She snuggled into him and they relaxed, and she let her mind wander back to their kiss, dwelling on the memory of his mouth on hers. The way he'd grabbed her, desperately, cutting her off. The shape his soft lips made as they pressed against hers with an inexpressible tenderness. How he held her face so carefully between his cupped hands. But most of all, how affected he'd been: aloof, unattainable, composed Oliver Queen out of control for once, overtaken by emotions, needing a moment. Because of how he felt about _ her. _ At the time she'd been too preoccupied by the crashing of her heart, but the knowledge, the awareness of how she affected him had remained on the edge of her consciousness ever since. And now, with his arms so tight around her, that knowledge seeped into her heart, deeply and irrevocably.

Eventually she fell asleep to the steady sound of his breathing and the reassuring press of his palm along her spine.

In the morning he was gone, and a day later he finally found the words to tell her he loved her before going off to die on a mountaintop.

Later, she stared at the sword that was still covered in his blood and wondered if Ra’s guesses he’d killed more than just Oliver that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um don't hate me? We need to ratchet up to maximum angst before we can have maximum smut, after all. Y'all know what you signed up for. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so anyway I hope you all were serious about wanting that smut, is all I'm saying

_Can't you see_   
_All love's luxuries_   
_Are here for you and me_

It turned out that not being a woman that Oliver loved didn’t exactly come naturally, so Felicity decided to see if being a woman that Ray Palmer loved might help her move on.

After several weeks of dating him, she had concluded that being loved by Ray was nice. _ He _ was nice. Considerate, affectionate, talkative. The only problem was, she kind of kept accidentally forgetting about him. 

There was the dinner at Altura that she forgot about because she had gotten a little too caught up in researching next gen upgrades to their comms. Then there was that time he came up behind her at work and wrapped his arms around her and she nearly took him down with one of John’s defensive moves before her body eventually remembered that he was allowed to touch her, and she was supposed to like it. 

And then there were times like now. Late nights or early evenings or middle of the afternoons in the silent bunker, deserted except for her and Oliver and the heavy awareness that something precious between them had broken. 

This happened to be a late night or very early morning depending on how you squinted, and Felicity pushed back in her chair, tired of pretending to work. 

She was tired of pretending a lot of things. 

She perched on the edge of her desk and watched Oliver at his workstation, her eyes flicking back and forth between the back of his neck, bent over his task, and his strong hands engaged in the precision work of making arrowheads.

The tip of his tongue was sticking out between his lips and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and it was altogether too much. The words slipped out before she even realized she was speaking. "Don't you ever just want to kiss me?"

She uttered the question just barely above a whisper and he shouldn’t have heard her, if he were really as focused on his task as the rigid angle of his body suggested, but his shoulders immediately tensed and his fingers went still. Not so focused, then. The expectant pause that followed was her chance, she supposed, to walk away and pretend she never said anything, but instead she drifted toward him. Exhaustion always had made her bold. “I see you. Watching me when you don’t think I notice.”

“You made your choice,” he whispered, barely even moving his lips, as if she might forget it, forget him, if he could just stay still long enough.

“No,” she countered, more forcefully than she intended. _ “You _ made my choice.”

“Felicity, I -”

“But you think about it anyway,” she pressed. “When you think I’m not watching, I see you. Your eyes get this look in them and I know you're remembering..." she shook her head, letting him fill in the blank.

He shot her a wary look.

“Don’t try to deny it, either,” she warned, targeting him with a lifted finger. 

“I’m not denying anything,” he admitted immediately.

“Good. Because I remember too, Oliver,” she acknowledged softly, stepping into his space. He slipped off the back of his stool in reaction, unconsciously maintaining his infuriating safe minimum distance.

Undeterred, Felicity continued to pursue him. “And some days it’s everything I can do to stop myself from just....”

“Just what?” he asked, throwing out the question when his back hit the wall, his nervous eyes sweeping the room. 

“Just….” Instead of finishing her thought, she moved into the space between his legs, leaning into his body as she slid her hands up his chest. 

He watched warily as she pressed up so their faces were close. Her eyes flickered to his lips and she cocked her head in a clear challenge. “Felicity,” he warned, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. 

His jaw clenched in a predictable show of _ Oliver Queen exercising control, _ which unfairly somehow heightened his attractiveness. His resistance was evident in his iron posture, in the lift of his chin and the rigidity of his muscles under her fingertips; he practically vibrated with the effort. But his pupils were blown and Felicity could see his wavering conviction. 

She knew the battle was lost when his hooded gaze dropped to her lips, and then he was folding toward her, inch by slow inch. “Felicity,” he begged, when his lips were a hair’s breadth away, asking her to reconsider, or to be sure, signalling that his control was slipping and he couldn’t be held responsible for his own actions anymore. 

But she was sure, so she nodded her head and closed the final distance, and as soon as their lips touched his surrender was absolute. 

* * *

The instant they came together their mouths were open and greedy, seeking to satisfy an insatiable hunger. Felicity’s usually soothing fingers tangled roughly into Oliver’s hair and she panted against his lips, molding her soft body against him as her tongue invaded his mouth. He returned every kiss with equal fervor, letting himself be guided by her determined movements. 

Her mouth was warm and alive and just like he remembered, except _ more _ because this time she was kissing him back. Her thumbs were skimming along his jaw, her insistent lips were tugging and meshing with his. Oliver reveled in the exultant rush of need and gratification, of _ finally, yes. _ He was unbelievably turned on by this sexually dominant Felicity, a new side of her that he instantly recognized as an extension of the strong-willed woman he had long ago fallen for. She tugged his shirt from his pants and slipped her hand in to stroke the muscles underneath, and he felt his dick hardening at her touch. One of her hands dropped down to cup him over his jeans, and he groaned unashamedly into her mouth, grinding desperately against her palm and causing her to press herself against his thigh.

Eventually she released him and leaned back, pinning him with a look that challenged him pretend he wasn’t as affected as she was. 

But he could never lie to her, not even for her own sake, so he met her eyes directly, the air between them heaving and crackling, and waited to see what she would do next. His haze of arousal left hardly any room for expectations, but she still surprised him when she spoke.

“One time.”

“What?” 

“One time, to get it out of our systems.”

“Felicity -” she didn’t cut him off, but he stopped because he had no idea what he planned to say. “Is that really a good idea?” Because despite everything he wanted it. Oh god, he wanted her.

“No, it’s probably a terrible idea. But it can’t be worse than this.” Her hands, still under his shirt, strayed restlessly over his abs, so close yet so far from where he needed her. 

And he wanted to go along with her suggestion immediately, enthusiastically, and with every inch of his body. But it was Felicity, and this was too important. He he forced himself to articulate his concerns, choking out the necessary words. “What about Ray?” She shot him a look that could melt glass, but he persisted. “Felicity, you have a boyfriend….”

“Yes, thank you, Oliver, I’m aware,” she said flatly, before dropping her eyes and confessing with a tiny shrug, “And yet all I can think about is you.” 

Her words shot through him, flooding him with a primal, possessive need that went straight to his swollen cock, and she must have seen it because an answering satisfaction blazed in her eyes, causing her to rake her fingernails down his bare chest. He hissed at the combination of pleasure and pain, and it shouldn’t have turned him on but it did; his dick pulsed against his confining pants and oh, _ it did. _

But just as suddenly as the feline instinct overtook her, she backtracked from it, removing her hand from his chest and tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. Staring at the floor, she said carefully, “I really like him, Oliver, and I want to give it a shot. But right now, I think...I’m still hung up on you. Physically, I mean.” She looked up at him with hesitant, pleading eyes, like she was trying to convince him to accept her explanation at face value, to buy into her logic. 

Oliver reeled, struggling to wrap his brain around her offer. Trying desperately to rein in the unfettered elation that had exploded through him the moment she confessed she couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

“So just to be clear,” he began hesitantly, because even in his lustful haze he knew it was vital that he get this right, “just to be clear, what you’re suggesting is that we….”

“That we have sex, yes. Just once. Just to get it out of our systems. It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” she reasoned. “We just...we do it, and then we can move on.” 

Objectively, Oliver knew he should probably say no. This had the potential to change everything, and that scared him. 

Scarier still was the spark of hope that he immediately quenched, because _ this had the potential to change everything. _

But Felicity stood in front of him, flush and ready, and his body simply hadn’t gotten the memo about caution. Not while her fingers on his forearm were silenting begging him to do the one thing he wanted more than anything to do. Even that chaste touch flooded his veins with a potent desire.

“So we just…?” he asked in a shaky voice, and he suddenly felt like he was thirteen again. Any game he may have had was irrelevant when it came to Felicity, who had always seen through his charming facade to the wreck of a man underneath. That she wanted him anyway nearly brought him to his knees.

“Yeah.”

She was gazing up at him with wide eyes through dark lashes, and he became acutely aware of how beautiful she was, how smart and graceful. Next to her he felt overly large and clumsy, completely unworthy. He was reduced to base urges, his swelling cock directing him to find a primal sort of completion within her soft body.

The power of it overwhelmed any sense of self preservation so that it wasn’t even a question. In this, just as in all things when it came to her, there was no choice to make. 

“Now? Here?” His breath quickened in anticipation of the inevitable. 

“Here. And now,” she said, with her characteristic conviction, steadying him, like she always did, the way no one else ever could. Oliver took a deep breath and locked eyes with her in silent communication. For all the things they'd never been able to hide from each other, they’d never acknowledged their mutual attraction, but it was laid bare between them now. And they embraced it. Willingly and with eyes open.

“Okay,” he agreed simply, and as soon as the decision was made, the animal desire he'd been barely holding at bay took charge. His hands dropped to his belt and he immediately began to strip with renewed urgency, needing to familiarize himself with her gentle curves, wanting to taste her and mark her and claim her. 

Once his pants were off, he reached for Felicity, greedy fingers landing on the zipper of her dress, but she placed her hand over his and stopped him with a look. “I’ll do it,” she said, gently but firmly establishing an unexpected boundary.

Oliver lifted his hands and nodded, swallowing the pain without protest because he was fully prepared to do this her way, whatever she needed. He finished removing his own clothes and his mouth went dry as she unceremoniously pulled her dress over her head, unhooked her bra, and stepped out of her shoes toward him.

He stopped breathing when he looked at her, so achingly beautiful she could have been sculpted from his fantasies. “Felicity,” he breathed, and she dragged her hot eyes up his body to meet his. 

He could have spent an hour just tracing her curves, but she reached for his hips and pulled him to her, so he simply hoisted her up with one arm, pinning her to his body as the other cleared a spot on his work table. 

Felicity yelped as her feet left the ground. “You good?” he asked, dipping his head so he could look at her face.

“Very good,” she replied a little breathlessly, meeting his eyes with a tiny smile. Her face was only inches away and he paused to take in her delicate features. Her dark lashes and full lips and the light smattering of freckles over her nose filled him with a strange yearning. She was utter perfection, and he wondered how it was possible that he could hold the most precious thing in the universe with one arm. 

And then she licked her lips, pulling his focus back to the immediate needs of their bodies. He laid her back on his desk like a feast he had every intention of devouring, stepping between her legs. He ran his hot palms up to the vee of her thighs, coaxing her open, and then bent over to taste her lips and nibble down her jaw and neck.

Felicity writhed beneath him, not content to be passive. Contrary to some of his fantasies (and in line with many others), she was bossy, insatiable. She moaned and sighed as he worked over her body with his mouth, and when his fingers teased her opening, she retaliated by squeezing the base of his cock. He paused to luxuriate in the feeling of her small hand surrounding him before his thumb found her clit. 

“Oliver!” she panted, rolling her hips and seeking more contact. 

The sound of his name on her lips combined with the feeling of her hand on his shaft was almost too much, but she was too caught up in her own pleasure to do anything about it. He began to pump inside her with three digits, and she rocked against him, using her hand to direct him and making small noises of discontent when he slowed down. 

Oliver was mesmerized by this Felicity, so open and raw, thoroughly sexed and confident. The sharp, remarkable mind that he regularly relied on to keep him alive was now focused fully on her own sexual gratification. The sensual lips that teased and challenged him were begging for release. Seeing her so undone evoked an acute tenderness that only accentuated and heightened his arousal. It made him want to take his time with her, to savor every gasp and whisper, but Felicity was slick and squirming with need, and his own lust was barely less contained.

As if sensing his hesitation, her hand returned to his cock, squeezing him and gliding her thumb along the sensitive head. He whimpered and bit back the instinct to to thrust mindlessly into her fist, placing a gentle hand over hers to still her movements. “Felicity,” he rasped. “Not yet.”

She pulled away to look him in the eyes, and his dick throbbed in her hand at the desperation on her face. Her lips were parted in a soft pant, her cheeks flushed and eyes wide and dark. “Oliver, please.” To emphasize her point, she widened her legs and positioned him at her entrance. 

Oliver let out a long, involuntary groan as he slipped against her wet opening. It would be so, so easy to slide in. Her dripping pussy was practically begging to be filled, but it was too soon. He changed the angle so that instead, his length glided along her slit and his head brushed against her plump clit. Felicity moaned at the contact, and Oliver liked the sound so much he did it again. And then again, establishing a quick rhythm at Felicity’s insistent urging. 

“Oh god, Oliver, don’t stop,” she gasped unnecessarily. He had absolutely every intention of making her come at least once before he let himself fill her. “Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” she chanted as he quickly worked her up, one hand pumping her channel while the other circled and pinched her exposed clit. He rasped his stubbled jaw over her breasts before first taking one tight peak and then the other into his mouth, using his lips and teeth and the flat of his tongue to push her to the edge. She was like living fire under him, and he wanted nothing more than to be consumed by her heat and light.

She came fast and hard only a few minutes later, screaming his name, and Oliver knew instantly it was a sound he would crave for the rest of his life. He worked her through her climax, prolonging it with deep, coaxing fingers and then he started to pull back when she stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “No,” she managed, still catching her breath. “Inside me. Now.” She pressed her point by encircling his thick, aching cock and stroking it from base to tip.

It was almost more than he could take. “Are you sure?” he asked in a strained voice, biting his lip to hold back a guttural groan and the baser instincts that came with it. Because if she was going to change her mind, he could leave it at this. He would. As much as he needed her, he knew he could delay his own satisfaction indefinitely rather than run the risk of going too far. 

“Oliver,” she urged, raw and exasperated, her hot eyes locked on his, “I _ need _you to fuck me.” She emphasized her words by closing her legs around him to pull him tighter against her. She was the very definition of tempting, panting and spread out on the table at just the perfect height. He could bury himself inside her with one easy thrust. 

Oliver held her gaze for a suspended moment, hesitating to cross the final threshold that he had always viewed as off limits. But the silent plea in her eyes never wavered as she looked back at him, and he never could deny her anything. Without looking away, he lined himself up at her entrance and pressed inside. 

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as he penetrated her, but she gave no sign of discomfort as she stretched to accommodate him. She fit around him with a warm, snug grip that squeezed and massaged him with every tiny movement. God, she felt so good.

“Yeah,” she whispered, and he realized he’d spoken aloud. 

“You like it?” he grunted, with a final push of his hips when he was fully seated inside her.

“Yes!” she gasped, though he didn’t know if she was answering his question or responding to the ecstasy of their intimately joined bodies. Probably both. 

He smirked and gave an experimental thrust in response, withdrawing to the tip and gliding smoothly back in. 

“Oh god!” she shouted, scraping her nails up his chest, sending pins and needles dancing over his skin.

The wanton, unselfconscious cry went straight to his dick, triggering a primal, masculine smugness that made him want to play with her. “You want more of that?” he asked. He trailed his hands along her inner thighs and spread her wider, then tried another shallow thrust. 

She made another throaty sound of pleasure before pinning him with commanding eyes. “God, Oliver! Stop teasing and fuck me!”

His hips jerked in reaction to her words, eager to comply, but he delayed the aching demands of his cock to savor the moment. 

Her lips were reddened and swollen with use, and flyaway strands of hair framed her face. 

Strong, indomitable Felicity, who constantly challenged and provoked and made him a better man, lay there looking thoroughly debauched and at his mercy, and the sight filled him with pride, and the tender stirrings of something much deeper.

She was looking back at him with a tiny pleased smile on her face that was somehow intimate and trusting and playful, and it made him feel capable and powerful. And ignited a blaze of cockiness that made him want to take his time and show off his prowess.

“I don’t think so, Felicity,” he drawled. “I like the sound of you begging too much to make it fast.” 

He quirked his brow and watched the aroused flush rising in her cheeks, and then he wrapped his arms behind her back and lifted her up into a sitting position, so that their faces were inches apart. 

“Oh,” she breathed, anchoring herself by wrapping her legs around his hips. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

She draped her arms around his neck as he began pumping into her deeply, establishing an unhurried pace that quickly had them thrumming with a slow-burning pleasure. Oliver let his gaze wander over her face as his palms glided hotly up her inner thighs.

“Mmm,” she moaned, letting her eyes drift closed as they quietly enjoyed the rhythmic stretch and fill as his body moved in hers. His hands landed on her hips, and she covered them with hers, interlacing their fingers as they rocked against each other. “So good.”

“Mmhmm,” Oliver agreed, unable to look away from her blissful face, zeroing in on her parted lips. Eventually, he surrendered to their magnetic pull, wrapping his arms around her as he bent down to kiss her. She instantly opened her mouth to him, and he stroked his tongue against hers in counterpoint to the languid rolling of his hips. 

Felicity threaded one hand into his hair and let the other travel down his back, eyes closed as she returned his deep, slow kisses. She began to trace over his scars with sure, deliberate fingers, and he whimpered into her mouth, heart squeezing at the realization that she had memorized every mark. He poured his emotion into touching her, sliding his palms down the line of her body, thumbs trailing over her hips to the vee between her legs, fingers trailing along her thighs. He began to pump into her with more urgency as their touches became more intimate, until he had to pull back, overwhelmed with the intensity. He rested his forehead against hers, gasping for air, and he realized with sudden clarity that the memory of this encounter would become a wound that would never close. But he couldn’t tell her that, so instead he closed his eyes and breathed. 

“Oliver?”

He shook his head, stalling, then pulled her into his arms, still buried deeply inside her, and stood up, moving to her desk chair where he sat down, arranging her legs so that she was straddling him. 

Felicity giggled breathlessly and steadied herself by tangling her fingers into his hair. 

With his emotions finally under control, he looked up at her with a small smile. “Okay?”

She gazed down on him in amusement, testing the position by making sure her feet could touch the floor, giving an experimental bounce that made him groan. “Okay,” she confirmed with a playfully raised eyebrow. 

The look in her eyes sent his pulse racing, and his hands went to her hips to help support her as she rose upwards along his length. 

“Oh. Oh wow,” she gasped as she sank back down, clearly surprised and pleased with the new position. 

“Yeah,” Oliver hitched in response, because the angle was suddenly really good and tight, and the leisurely rocking of earlier was not going to be sustainable. He dropped his hands down to cup her ass, kneading and squeezing her cheeks as she began to ride him. 

“Oh, fuck, Oliver,” she whispered, her hands pressed into his shoulders as she leveraged herself on his shaft. After a minute she began to grind down on him with shorter, harder thrusts, arching her body so her clit rubbed against him with every stroke. Her writhing body gripped and squeezed his already aching dick, massaging the throbbing head as it penetrated her channel, and Oliver felt a gathering vibration starting to build at the base of his spine. His fingers tightened on her hips as he started to fuck up into her with passionate thrusts, making the chair groan and squeak underneath them. 

“Yes, Felicity,” he urged roughly, carding a hand through her hair and prompting her to meet his gaze. “Come on, baby,” he murmured, eyes begging her to not hold back, to give him everything.

Something flickered over her face when he let the endearment slip out, but she didn’t close off, didn’t look away - instead, she bit her lip and rode him harder. Her fingers gripped his shoulders so tight it was almost painful, and she breathed hard through her nose. After a minute she changed the angle slightly so that the hard peaks of her nipples scraped up and down his chest as she raised and lowered herself on his dick. “Oliver, please,” she begged, chasing her release, and he brimmed with the need to give her everything.

“Come on, Felicity,” he nodded. “Give it to me, I can take it. Come on.” He was close too, his balls tight and his cock ready to burst, and he knew he needed to help her find her own release before it was too late. He cupped the base of her neck with one hand while the other sought her needy clit, providing extra friction with the slight press of his rough thumb.

Felicity was an instant fan of the move. “Oh god, fuck, Oliver, yes, fuck, like that, yes!” she shouted, and he felt her walls clamp around him with her impending orgasm. Her gaze was still locked with his, glazed over with a haze of pleasure that blanketed a well of intense emotions. Oliver was too wrapped up in his own gratification to consider anything but the immediate, raw need of the moment, but his heart flipped over anyway in a fundamental recognition of what he saw in her eyes. 

“So good, so fucking good, Felicity,” he said, and he knew he wasn’t just talking about the sex. 

She nodded mutely, on the verge, and he leaned in to kiss her, cradling her head while thrusting up into her and pressing on her clit, and it was enough to send her over the edge. She threw her head back with a strangled moan as she crested and came apart, and it was the most beautiful fucking thing he’d ever seen. The intensity alone of her walls clenching and pulsing around him was almost enough to trigger his own climax, but the sight was too erotic for his control. Felicity coming undone because of him was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life and he exploded apart, pulsing and spilling hotly inside her with a few final, deep thrusts. 

Oliver breathed heavily as he basked in the immediate afterglow, his head thrown back on the chair, his fingers idly stroking along Felicity’s back. She slumped forward against him, resting her forehead on his shoulder and tucking her arms between them. They sat like that for several minutes as his pounding heart slowed under her fingers, and he wondered if she could sense the triumphant declaration in every beat. 

When the sweat drenching his body had begun to cool, he leaned forward and pressed his lips into her hair, his fingers never stilling in their exploration of her naked body. She curled into his embrace, and he could feel her ribs rising and falling with every breath.

He wanted to memorize the moment, memorize the feeling of her body in his arms. He had seen her almost every day for almost three years, and in that time he’d learned the meaning of her every expression, her every touch. He thought he knew her better than anyone, better than himself, but he couldn’t help but marvel at the woman in his arms, how different and yet the same she was. Nothing could have prepared him for the devastating privilege of holding her in his lap while he was still buried inside her, her body collapsed against his chest, her skin glowing with sweat. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the devastating realization that he was going to have to let her go.

She eventually leaned back and raised a hand to his cheek, tracing her fingers over his lips before meeting his gaze with soft, expressive eyes. The look they shared brimmed with awareness of how good it was between them.

Of how good it could have been if things were different, Oliver couldn’t help but think, the regret undoubtedly shining out from his eyes.

He opened his mouth to let some of those thoughts spill out in a half-formed apology. “Felicity, I -”

But she closed her eyes and cut him off with a sharp shake of her head, and when she looked at him again her expression had transformed and completely shuttered. “This was good, Oliver,” she said lightly. “It was exactly what I needed. What we needed.”

He found himself nodding along with her words, not out of any sense of shared conviction, but because she sounded so certain and he had long ago learned to trust the authority in her voice.

“Now that that’s out of our systems, we can move on,” she said with an air of casual finality, planting her feet on the ground and standing up. His semi-erect dick slipped easily out of her, and she paid no attention to it, paid no attention to her own nakedness or to the cracks forming in his heart as she padded across the room to gather her clothes.

“Felicity!” he called out, louder than was warranted, but this wasn't how he imagined things would go and he couldn’t just let her walk away. 

She turned around and looked at him expectantly. He was still splayed out naked in the chair while she stood with her bundle of clothes clutched against her in a way that wasn’t shy, but that made it clear that her body was no longer on offer. 

“Should I say something to, to Ray?” he asked, because his brain was still struggling to make sense of her sudden change in demeanor, and he needed to say _ something. _ He instantly knew it was the wrong thing, but he couldn’t shake the sudden awareness of the part he had played in helping Felicity cheat on her boyfriend. A boyfriend that she said she was going back to, in a plan he had agreed to, but that was before, and now all he knew was that he felt suddenly useless and absurd. Extraneous. 

Felicity regarded him with an expression of bewilderment. “Oliver, no. It has nothing to do with you. I’ll handle it.”

_ Nothing to do with you. _ The words twisted into his heart with knife-like precision. 

“I’m going to tell him everything. This was honestly no worse than the messy,” she waved in his direction with a summarily dismissive motion, “feelings I’ve been holding on to since the beginning of our relationship. I think when I explain it to him, he’ll understand. And then we can start over on the same page.” And before he could respond, she slipped into the bathroom. 

He stared at the point where she disappeared, trying to get a handle on his swirling thoughts.

Eventually he stood and dressed slowly, lingering in the lair with the hope that before she left she might look at him again and share another soft, honest smile. 

That she might give in to the love that he knew she still felt for him and press her mouth against his one more time.

So that when she went back to Ray, telling him that there was nothing left between them, she would she would speak with lying lips that bore the invisible, permanent mark of his kiss. 

He lingered and hoped but when she eventually came out, dressed and looking fresh, she was talking on the phone, and she barely spared him a nod before she was gone. 

The slamming door echoed loudly with a painful sense of finality, and he was haunted by the realization that he only had himself to blame.

_ I thought I could be me, and the Arrow, but I can’t, _ he’d said. He wondered now how he ever thought he could be anything without her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. this story has been loosely following canon up to this point, but it diverges pretty definitely here. While some of the events of 3x19 are alluded to, Thea most definitely hasn’t been, and is not about to be, stabbed. And let’s say that Ray’s hospital “confession” never happened either, because just no. (In my opinion, that was super uncomfortable and weird even in canon, and it has even less of a place in this story.)
> 
> 2\. (on my long neglect of this fic) Basically, this is fic deals with messy, complicated things, and as much as I love to write them, it’s emotionally draining and apparently I can’t do it all the time 😅 Also, while most of the response to this story was positive, I naively didn’t expect a few people to react as negatively as they did, which was, frankly, demotivating (because I’m just oversensitive like that - oops). I was unfortunately under the mistaken belief that when it comes to season 3, everyone else was mostly on the same page as me, but that was clearly not the case. 
> 
> This story is about flawed people caught in imperfect scenarios. I set out to explore the painful, messy angst that arises when obstacles are placed in the way of epic love, and it definitely doesn’t get easier in this chapter, though hopefully it will be worth it. Please take this as your final warning 😉 
> 
> And if you're still here for the ride, hello and welcome back and thank you for being patient! 😘

_ And when our worlds they fall apart  
When the walls come tumbling in  
Though we may deserve it  
It will be worth it _

The second most handsome man in the room had been ignoring her all night, which was a problem for a couple reasons.

The first reason wasn’t because he was Felicity’s boyfriend, though according to normal relationships rules he shouldn’t have been neglecting her. But they were not normal people, and they didn’t live normal lives.

So no, it didn’t bother her that Ray Palmer was too absorbed in his work to be paying attention to his _ girlfriend _ Felicity - it bothered her that he was tuning out his _ partner _Felicity.

_ Some people are just more wizard-in-the-tower types than Fellowship-of-the-Ring types, _ she reminded herself for the third time that night. Not that Ray was Saruman - no, the opposite, really. In a surreal twist of fate, he had kindly - enthusiastically, even - stepped up to fill in on Team Arrow when Oliver's most-wanted status was keeping him side-lined. 

Involuntarily, her eyes flicked to the other man in the room, whose intensely overwhelming, bare-chested and sweaty presence was the other reason why Ray’s inattention was a problem. Because while Ray was 5 feet and a million miles away, Oliver was fifteen feet away but still somehow entirely too close.

He was working out with normal gym equipment for once, because Ray’s 52nd floor office suffered from a distinct lack of wing chun dummies and conveniently exposed rebar, but he wasn’t letting the conventional equipment limit his workout. Rather, he was going full-Oliver in intensity and resourcefulness, somehow managing to invent new uses for free weights that put the raw power of his body on full display. 

And he was right there in her direct line of sight so that every bend, lift, and twist served as a tangible reminder that she had first hand experience with all of it, from his strong shoulders and rippling back muscles, down the cut lines of his torso, to the defined glutes just barely obscured by low-slung cargo pants. It was distracting, to say the least. 

On top of that, her ears were being continuously subjected to Oliver’s low grunts and heavy breathing, and everything - the sounds, the sweat, the physicality - was resurrecting sensory memories that she had spent the past several weeks actively trying to forget.

But forgetting was impossible in the tiny, stifling space, where every time she looked up, she found him watching her, his eyes glittering with knowledge, instantly bringing her back to the moment, weeks ago now, when she finally learned exactly what his physicality and raw strength were capable of.

“Okay,” she announced loudly, directing her words toward her boyfriend’s rounded back, “so, Ray, I’ve been working on upgrades to your neuralnet’s interface with the sympathetic nervous system, and I need to test it out to make sure I’m on the right track.” He didn’t even blink - and how dry must his eyes be by now, really? It wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get his attention in the past two hours. It wasn’t the first time she’d failed, either. 

The skyscraper office had a different feel than the Foundry, to say the least, but the modified team Arrow had made it work for the past few weeks, while they continued to search for Ra’s and fight crime nightly. Normally, John would be there too, his calm and sensible presence acting as an inadvertent but very welcome buffer, but tonight it was just the three of them, and other than the sounds of Oliver’s exertions and the occasional thunk of one weight being exchanged for another, the room had been quiet for several hours. Felicity was stationed in front of her computers, alternating between running searches related to a recent string of robberies and improving specifications on Ray’s neural net thingy, while Ray was locked in a perpetual state of tinkering on his ATOM suit, leaving Oliver, who was ostensibly there to help train Ray as well as give tactical support, with nothing to do except drive Felicity crazy. 

Her gaze automatically drifted to Oliver, then quickly flicked away when she once again found him watching her, this time wearing a knowing smirk at her failure to gain Ray’s attention. It sent a little thrill - part irritation and part something she didn’t want to acknowledge - to know that he could still read her like an open book. In one glance he saw her frustration with Ray, along with just how much she was trying to rein that frustration in. She huffed in annoyance, shoving the squirmy feeling down, because he wasn’t supposed to be having that effect on her anymore.

Two weeks ago she’d walked away from the regret in Oliver’s eyes, forestalling his apology before it could spill from his lips, and gone straight to Ray. She stood numbly in his entryway and confessed everything - or maybe not _ everything _\- but everything she felt he needed to know, and waited for his judgment. His anger. Expecting, and more than half hoping, that he would end things with her.

Ray had silently watched her from his doorway, eyeing her like a particularly difficult piece of code he was trying to debug. But when her words ran out, all he said was, “So you’re over him now?” 

She had nodded mutely, because she needed to believe she could be.

“Okay then,” Ray had said. “For dinner tonight, do you want Korean barbecue or do you want to try that Ethiopian place we were looking at?”

His easy forgiveness caught her off guard. The truth was she craved his anger, had been relying on it to distract her from Oliver’s much more painful rejection. She hadn’t really considered the fact that he might take her back, so that when he did, she was unprepared to do anything except to comply. And that had been that. 

Later, after she’d had time to think, she told herself that it was good that Ray wanted to make things work. That he was stable, and kind, and cared for her, and sought her opinion. She told herself she could learn to forget the brief glimpse of _ more _that she had felt with Oliver. That she could learn to be happy.

And when, a week after that, Ray found out that Oliver was the Arrow and that Felicity had been helping him in his mission, Felicity didn’t let herself think about how much more anger and emotion he’d exhibited over her apparent betrayal as a partner than he had at her betrayal as his girlfriend, except to tell herself to be grateful he wasn’t the jealous type.

And if their relationship was more accurately described as companionable than passionate, it still worked. And it was fine. 

Pulling herself out of her thought spiral, Felicity cleared her throat so that she could better project her voice. “Specifically, I’ve boosted the efficiency of the enhancements to your acute stress response so that next time you get in a fight, the neuralnet overrides will take over with preset responses, and we won’t have a repeat of last week’s laser-beam eyes guy disaster. _ Ray.” _

Nothing. Without thought, she flicked her annoyed gaze back to Oliver, meeting his eyes in shared exasperation before she snapped her head away, remembering, as a wave of something like guilt washed over her, that she probably shouldn't be taking sides with Oliver against Ray.

Still, the guilt couldn’t drown out the familiar twist of frustration and relief that hit her every time she and Oliver fell back into their effortless patterns of communication. Frustration because, despite weeks of stilted conversations and physical distance, the moment she dropped her guard, their seamless partnership manifested as if it had never been interrupted.

Relief because, despite everything, they were still _ them. _

As much as Felicity tried to carve space for herself that didn’t include him, every slip-up seemed to prove how futile her efforts were. For his part, Oliver had been doing his best to respect the invisible wall she'd erected between them, following her cues and giving her the necessary space. It worked well enough except when she accidentally met his gaze. In his wide blue eyes she would read all the things he wasn’t saying: how much he wanted to go to her, touch her, and be with her, along with a lingering sense of tragedy because he couldn’t. And sometimes it made her want to cry, but most of the time it made her want to scream, because they didn’t have to be a tragedy if he didn’t let it - and it was entirely too much to deal with. 

But tonight, he was watching her with something else - something less forlorn, and more predatory. A smug, knowing heat that followed her, sending involuntary shivers running down her spine and raising the hair on her arms and at the back of her neck.

She returned her attention to her computer, trying and failing not to think about the difference between the way he looked at her and the way Ray...didn’t. Her fingers flew over her keyboard in frustration, because everything would be much less complicated if Oliver weren’t here, coveting her every glance, taking stock of her every movement, making her feel wanted and seen. It was infuriating. It made it impossible not to compare Ray's calm approach - to friendship, to partnership, to a relationship - with Oliver's passion.

She’d been assaulted by visions and flashbacks all night, and just then she was hit with the memory of the way he’d looked directly into her, eyes raw with wonder as they made love - as if after everything he’d been through, she was enough, she could be enough. She knew on a primal level that Ray would never look at her like that. That no one else ever could. 

She shut her eyes hard against the unwelcome thought, shaking her head as if she could prevent the inevitable memory of what happened next: the apology in his eyes that stated more plainly than words ever could that despite how he felt about her, it _ wasn’t _ enough. It would _ never _be enough. 

“Ray,” Oliver said, his casual words mercifully interrupting Felicity’s useless thoughts, “Why don’t you take a break so we can work on your combat techniques?” 

Felicity held her breath, watching Ray’s stiff back for any indication that Oliver had broken the man’s concentration, finally releasing a long sigh when it was clear he hadn’t. 

She looked back at Oliver, who was watching her again, waiting for her to acknowledge his attempt. He shrugged, not bothering to hide the hint of amusement just barely evident in the tiny arch of his eyebrow and the slight lift of his lips. Not that she was focused on his sensual lips, or the erotic memory of him dragging them along her body… 

“Ray,” she blurted loudly, cutting off her inappropriate thoughts, “I’m going to start looking into upgrades to the direct neural interface, like we talked about, okay?” She waited. More loudly, “Ray?” 

Suddenly, a small projectile flew through the air and hit Ray directly on the forehead. “Hmmm?” he finally said, without looking up.

Felicity’s eyes flew to Oliver, who was standing with his hands behind his back, his face the picture of innocence. She glared at him, but he refused to look at her.

She turned back to Ray. “Ray, did you hear me? I’m going to work on the direct neural interface, and it would really help if you could come demonstrate your fighting techniques so I can figure out which spinal nerves to focus on.”

“Okay, Felicity,” he said distractedly. 

She rolled her eyes. He was not making this easy. _ Wizard-in-the-tower, wizard-in-the-tower. _

When she turned back to Oliver, he looked at her with a tiny shrug and a guileless expression in his wide eyes. Which would have been irritating enough, except as she watched, he slowly pulled his lower lip between his teeth, instantly raising the temperature in the room by about 20 degrees. For a long moment she remained caught in the headlights of his electric blue gaze, the tension ratcheting noticeably, and she had to bite her own lip to stop the frustrated moan that threatened to erupt. Blinking to break the spell, she frowned, trying to hide how much his boyish charm, his half-naked sweaty body, his _ everything _was affecting her.

Goddammit, he had no right to be that sexy. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Oliver’s slow grin as he returned to his workout, which only fueled her growing irritation.

It wasn’t fair. He was the one who’d pushed her away; and yet still, despite everything, he refused to make it easy for her to walk away.

But self-pity had never been her thing, so she consciously turned her attention back to her computers, searching for something - anything - to focus on, buying time for Ray to finish up what he was doing. She tabbed through her programs until it became clear he had forgotten about her again, and she swallowed down another wave of frustration just as the sounds of Oliver returning to his workout resumed with vigor. 

Great. 

She could feel the weight of his intense gaze with every push and release of effort, every exhale, somehow heavier than it had been all night. Capitulating to his unspoken demand, she looked up to see that his eyes had turned dark. 

She glanced away from him as she utterly failed to repress the flood of memories crashing through her, setting her blood on fire. 

_ The effortless way he’d lifted her, laying her back on the table. The way his dick felt, hot and thick against her opening before he’d pressed inside her for the first time. His tongue flicking at her nipples, his soft hair tickling against her cheeks in counterpoint to the stubble roughing against her skin as he devoured her neck… _

The dumbbells thunked on the ground, pulling her attention back to the present as Oliver dropped down and began a set of one-handed pushups. She took the opportunity to let her eyes wander down his broad back, taking in the powerful muscles and brutal scars that made up the man so many people considered cold and ruthless. 

She was pretty sure she was the only one who knew how deeply he could feel. 

_ The shivery responsiveness of his skin under her trailing fingertips. How fun it had been to tease him, pulling groans from deep within his chest. The heart-stuttering elation of turning the tables on him, straddling him, riding him while his sex-drugged eyes looked up at her in awe… _

She pried her attention away, fixing her gaze on the ceiling and trying to get back some semblance of composure, but only a second later she looked back at Oliver to find him smirking at her. 

Knowing exactly what he was doing to her.

She rolled her eyes, conspicuously turning back to the code on the screen in front of her - focus, Felicity - but that didn’t stop the warm flood of arousal between her legs, or the press of memories, as inevitable now as the quickening beat of her heart.

_ The look on his face when he saw her naked for the first time. The way he’d held her gently, buried inside her, trading long, deep kisses - each one leading into another. Rocking together, suspended in time. The words he’d whispered against her skin, the way her heart had flipped when he’d called her baby without even realizing it… _

Her eyes were drawn inevitably back to his, and sure enough, he was watching her. Hungrily, with a calm confidence that made her stomach drop. He licked his lips deliberately, causing her to quickly look back at her screen, pretending she hadn’t been staring, though they both knew she had been. She glanced at Ray to see if he had moved at all since the last time she’d checked. He hadn’t. 

Oliver lifted a heavy barbell over his shoulders, beginning a set of squats, and she didn’t realize she was staring again until he released a low groan straight out of her memories, causing her wide eyes to snap to his. His lips turned up in a slow smile and she was fairly certain he could read every thought in her head, but she couldn’t look away. She felt utterly trapped, flushed and shaky and powerless under his steady gaze. 

The same certain gaze as when he’d held her naked in his arms, with no barriers between them, no lies. _ So fucking good, Felicity, _ he’d said, and she knew he meant everything. And when he held her afterwards, his lips in her hair and his arms cradling her like she was the most precious thing in the world, for one beautiful moment she’d let herself believe. But she'd been a fool. He was never, ever going to choose her, and she couldn't afford to let herself forget it.

She tore her eyes away and swallowed heavily, leaning into her desk for support. She just needed to get back on solid ground. “Ray,” she said, testing the steadiness of her voice, “I’ve had a bit of a breakthrough here. I think you should come check it out.” She bit her lip, waiting. But there was no response; he was lost again to his zone.

In her peripheral vision she saw that Oliver was still watching her, silently begging her to look back at him, but she refused to give in. Instead, she slammed her fingers unnecessarily loudly on the keyboard and she started to refactor some of Ray’s code. 

The icy silence lasted almost a minute before Oliver again intruded. “Anything new turn up on the Crescent Circle robberies?” To an outside observer, his nonchalant voice would sound disinterested, but she knew it was only a tactic.

Felicity made a noncommittal noise, hoping to put a quick end to whatever he was up to.

A pause, and then, “Did you check it against the police blotters in neighboring cities?”

She turned her head, abandoning her attempt to ignore him in order to fix him with a scathing stare. They both knew he wasn’t actually questioning her abilities - just provoking her because he knew she wouldn’t be able to let it slide - and she hadn’t. One point to Oliver.

He blinked back at her blandly, utterly immune to her death glare. On the contrary, the eye contact only seemed to encourage him, and she realized far too late - as he pulled a shirt over his head and started moving toward her - that her attention had been the excuse he was looking for. 

She turned back to her terminal, but she felt him come up alongside her anyway.

He stood quietly watching her for several long seconds, hovering, his shoulder almost touching hers. She could feel the heat radiating off him, knew without looking that his cheeks would be flushed with exertion and his hair would be spiky with sweat.

Damn him.

Her fingers flew faster over the keys as she tabbed from one program to the next, finally settling on the interface to Ray’s neuralnet program. There had to be something in there she could work on, something to focus her attention -

“Anything I can help with?” Oliver asked, his voice low and practically in her ear as he leaned over her shoulder in order to peer at the screen. Standing so close that if she turned her head, their cheeks would touch. Not a helpful thought. 

“Oliver,” she said, trusting that he would pick up on what she didn’t say: _ go back to your corner and stop annoying me this moment _. 

Ignoring her warning, he reached out to point at her monitor, the motion bringing him even closer, overwhelming her senses with his nearness. “So what does this have to do with Ray’s suit?” he asked, pointing at the interactive diagram of the central nervous system and musculature on the display. 

Her heart fluttered, just a little, at the question, though she wasn’t sure if it was due to his sweaty proximity and the deep, intimate tone of his voice, or because of the interest he was showing in her program. 

Or both. Probably - definitely - both. 

Focus.

Oliver studied the display for a moment, seemingly unaffected by the way his body was nearly surrounding hers, and she could feel his mind quickly making sense of the interface, so she didn’t answer. “You said you needed to test the accuracy of the upgraded stress-response overrides?” he asked in that business-like but warm, familiar way they had. It reminded her of countless other nights spent in the lair, working on some problem together. Just the two of them.

But that was neither here nor there. “Yeah,” she nodded.

Keeping his eyes on the screen, Oliver leaned into her - almost casually - in order to point to a specific section of the diagram. Felicity could have moved away from him, but she didn’t. And she knew him - knew them - well enough to know that they were both aware of the electric current that buzzed between them, like a conversation happening between their bodies that was completely out of their control. “Does the subject need to be experiencing an acute stress response in order to run the test, or can you artificially approximate it?” 

“I can manually replicate it,” she said neutrally, the _ of course _ going unspoken.

Oliver huffed a laugh in response, easing the tension until his hand abruptly landed over hers on the mouse. Startled, Felicity turned her head to meet his gaze. His very close, smirking gaze. 

Confirming that he was very aware of what he was doing.

A potent mix of irritation and lust flooded Felicity all over again, even as she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his.

His eyes fell to her lips and she could feel her heart beating in her throat, hyper-aware of all these places they were touching. His hand on hers, his heat surrounding her, his lips hovering only inches from hers...all of it suddenly struck her as a challenge, a game to him, and the anger rushed hot through her veins, overriding the thumping arousal. Eyes flashing, she stepped back abruptly, pulling her hand out from under his.

“What are you doing?” she whispered furiously, keeping her voice low so as not to draw Ray’s attention.

Unperturbed, Oliver’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile and he shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His denial only fueled her indignation. “You have been acting like a jerk all night!”

“A jerk?” he said, and she could tell that despite his mocking tone she had struck a nerve. He shook his head. “I’m trying to help you.” He seemed contrite, and she felt a little bad, until he added in a darker tone, “Unlike some other people I could mention.” 

The insult to Ray, while accurate, only enraged her further. She held his gaze for a long moment before delivering her own blow. “Ray may be a little absent-minded, but at least he listens to me when it counts.”

Oliver’s mocking smile turned brittle, but he refused to take her bait. 

Feeling her frustration rise, Felicity made a sudden decision. She grabbed Oliver by the arm and pulled him toward the office door. 

He resisted for only a second, then willingly let her drag him out of the office. 

“Ray,” she called over her shoulder, on the off-chance that he might notice their absence, “We need to check on something real quick. We’ll be right back.”

The only response was the slamming of the office door behind them. 

*

Oliver offered no resistance as she dragged him down the hallway. Her movements were forceful and abrupt; she pushed and pulled and jerked and shoved, and he let her until they turned a corner and then suddenly he matched her roughness, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her body into the space between his legs where she could feel the thick length of his ready erection. 

“Oliver!” Her tone was shocked but her body automatically yielded, fitting herself against the firm lines of his chest. 

“Tell me to stop, Felicity.” He held her firmly against him and gazed down on her with calm, dark eyes. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

She stared up at him, breathing hard. She couldn’t bring herself to say the word. Instead, “This was supposed to be over.”

He was shaking his head slowly.

“Yes, Oliver, we agreed. One time, to get it out of our system. One time, and then it would be over.”

“This will never be over,” he said, low and certain.

Her stomach dropped at his words, at the serious look on his face. “You don’t mean that -” 

“I do. Felicity -”

“No!” she cut in. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You are the one who keeps dangling maybes; you are the one who keeps taking it back.” Her heart was beating furiously, fueling her body with a frenetic energy she could feel to the tips of her fingers.

“I’m not taking this -”

“You don't get to decide whether I walk away, Oliver. We settled this already. I’m done.”

His expression faltered as he absorbed the blow, but then his gaze dropped down, taking in the way their bodies were pressed together, and when he looked back up at her, his eyes were steady and gleaming. “It doesn’t look like you’re done,” he said quietly.

She held his gaze for a long moment, the space between them crackling with tension. “Fine,” she said sharply, finally. “I thought one fuck would cure me, but clearly it didn’t fully do the trick.”

There was another heavy silence as the gravity of her words settled around them. “What are you saying?” Oliver asked carefully, looking at her mouth as if he could read her true intentions there.

She swiped her tongue over her lips, too aware of his eyes following the motion, but her voice was steady when she spoke. “I’m saying let’s do it. One more time.” She tried to ignore the shiver of elation that danced down her spine, tried to ignore the triumphant whisper in the back of her mind that knew that despite what she told herself, she was surrendering not to logic, but to desire.

“One more time?” Oliver asked, his tone heavy with promise.

“Yes,” she replied decisively.

But Oliver delayed, lips parted, something in his eyes pushing for more than just her permission. “What about Palmer?”

Felicity exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding; she’d forgotten about Ray. Again. But arousal was rushing through her veins and the only thing that seemed relevant at the moment was how easily Ray had let go of the fact that she’d slept with Oliver last time. How it had seemed like nothing to him, not then, or any time since. 

Oliver had already been undressing her with his eyes, but now he began undressing her for real, his hands going under her skirt, lifting the hem, his fingers working their way under the line of her panties. 

Felicity shut her eyes and submitted to the will of his deft fingers, but when she didn’t answer his question, he stilled. “Are you going to tell him?” 

His voice was rough, and instead of waiting for her to answer, he took the opportunity to dip two fingers into her soaking entrance.

Something about the fact that his fingers were inside her, claiming her, while his words asked her to consider Ray, was searingly hot. The edge of possession in his voice and actions, which she wouldn’t tolerate in any other man but that somehow felt right coming from him, sent a flood of desperate heat to her core, and she gasped, losing her train of thought, unable to concentrate on anything but the way Oliver was touching her, owning her. 

He began to thrust inside her shallowly, creating a sense of fullness at her entrance. The coaxing motion of his fingers somehow both ramped up her arousal and calmed her mind, as if his body was apologizing for the emotional stress his question was putting her through. 

She moved against his hand, surrendering to the sensation, closing her eyes to better concentrate on the pleasure he was giving her. She could feel him watching her, could tell he was making subtle changes to the way he was touching her in response to the ecstasy flitting across her face, and the knowledge fed her lust. She slipped easily against him, riding fingers that stiffened in reaction to the seeking thrusts of her hips.

Until all at once he stopped, pulling his hand from her body and letting her skirt drop back down. “Felicity,” he said in a low, chastising growl.

“What?” She opened her eyes slowly, reluctant to acknowledge the interruption. 

Instead of answering immediately, he raised his soaked digits and, maintaining eye contact, dragged them over his sensual lips, pulling them into his mouth and sucking her juices. She moaned at the sight. 

“Are you going to tell Palmer that we fucked again?” he asked, in a voice as dark as his eyes. “Just one more time. One last time. To get it out of your system for good.” There was an edge to his tone, something dangerous and definitely important, but the insistent thrum where his hands had been made her reckless and she moved to unbuckle his belt, ignoring him. 

He stopped her by placing his hands over hers, and she closed her eyes in frustration. “Yes,” she conceded, not caring anymore about whatever distinction she was trying to maintain. Not caring about anything but getting him inside her again. “Yes, I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him that we can have our fresh start, because after this there’s only friendship and partnership between you and me.”

“No, you can’t tell him that. It would be a lie.”

His declaration landed heavy in the pit of her stomach, but she was too preoccupied to follow his confusing logic. All she knew was that his straining body and dilated eyes were telling her one thing, while his words seemed to be telling her something else. “What the hell are you talking about, Oliver? Let’s just do this. I know you want to fuck me as badly as I need to fuck you.” 

* * *

Felicity’s bold statement struck Oliver with force and he momentarily lost the battle with his self control. There was no doubt that he wanted her. Needed her with a primal, essential, urge that begged him to ignore the protests of his head and simply spread her long legs and sink in. He’d thought of it every day since the last time, stroking his own dick while remembering how it felt to strip her naked and bury himself inside her, running his rough stubble over her soft skin, marking her, claiming her body and soul.

The past several weeks he’d been fighting a constant internal battle, knowing he should respect Felicity’s decision to walk away from him, while every instinct in his body refused to let her go.

Seeing her with Palmer was torture. Most of the time he was drowning in anger and hurt that after everything that was between them - that would always be between them - she could choose to be with Ray. But other times the sight of them, light and happy in a way he could never be, filled him with such a sense of loss that he felt physically weak, and he would find some excuse to leave before his knees simply gave out.

Rather than dwell on the impossible scenario, Oliver preferred to distract himself by taking his frustrations out on a training dummy, or better yet, Dig, but tonight John wasn’t there to spar with him, and Ray’s neglect of Felicity goaded him, and a part of him that he usually kept under tight rein broke free. He declined to examine the issue any deeper than the clearly observable fact that, despite her obvious attempts to ignore him, Felicity was clearly affected by the sight of him working out. Just like old times. And just like old times, his efforts at restraint had come crashing down.

Now she stood in front of him and he realized just how badly his plan had backfired. His limbs were buzzing with need, his dick heavy in his too-tight pants, and he didn’t stop her when she curled her fingers around his waistband and pulled him further down the hallway.

She dragged him into a deserted office and as soon as the door shut behind them, her desperate, dominant hands were unbuckling his belt. He felt powerless, caught, only able to watch as she worked his pants off. He was mesmerized by the vision of her precise, competent movements. She hastily pulled his pants down around his ankles and wrapped her efficient hands around his freed erection. He was vaguely aware of the sharp edge of the desk that she backed him into, vaguely aware of the sweat on his back that gave resistance when she pulled his t-shirt over his head, vaguely aware of the way he towered over her when she wordlessly dropped to her knees in front of him - aware of and fascinated by what she had in mind - while she wasted no time in wrapping her lips around the head of his swollen cock. 

He was completely at her mercy. 

He wanted to protest, because there were things he needed to say, things she needed to know, but the only sound that came from his mouth was a low groan, and his fingers wrapped around her ponytail, silently urging her on. 

She was amazing, a goddess as she sucked him, taking him in deeper than he could have imagined. Felicity had always been sexy to him - her delectable body, sharp wit, and unapologetic self-confidence had combined to make her almost untouchable in her perfection. But even his appreciation for that irresistible confidence hadn’t prepared him for the utter expertise that she demonstrated as she swallowed his cock. It took everything in him not to thrust into her mouth. 

She was relentless. She bobbed her head over him rhythmically, the back of her throat bumping against his sensitive tip, and he threw his head back, sucking in deep breaths, trying not to lose himself completely in the sensation as she ran her tongue around the underside of his glans. She hummed as she worked him vigorously, creating vibrations that shot up his back and throughout his body, and every now and then she took him as deep as possible and closed her throat around his head. A steady stream of groans and expletives fell mindlessly from his lips, and in almost no time he was ready to explode.

“Felicity.” He gripped her hair, pulling her away forcefully, causing her to moan in response. “Felicity, you have to stop. I’m gonna come.”

She pulled back, releasing him with a pop, and pinned him with a sweltering look that almost pushed him over the edge. “That’s kinda the point, Oliver.”

He breathed heavily, his senses slowly coming back to him. He was the one in charge here, until suddenly he wasn’t. He had a plan, he remembered, to make her see that what was between them was deeper than just lust. Deeper than just friendship. That it was more than could ever exist between her and Palmer.

But as she stared up at him with swollen lips and wary eyes, he realized that words would never be enough to express the reality of what was between them. And maybe it was in part due to the demands of his straining dick, or maybe it was the irresistible invitation he could read in her dark gaze, but he knew for sure he was going to have to show her. 

“Okay,” he said, offering her his hand to help her up, letting his hands come to rest on her hips. She stepped into him, as if to wrap her arms around him, but at the last second he spun them around, pressing her - not ungently - down, so that she was bending slightly over the desk. She gasped in surprise, but went willingly. 

“Okay,” he repeated, and lifted her dress and pulled her underwear down, quickly finding her drenched opening with the head of his bare cock. “One more time, then, just like you said.” He pushed into her with one deep thrust, and they both moaned in ecstasy at the sudden joining, so tight and full and right, causing Oliver’s heart to squeeze in his chest. 

Felicity immediately started moving, urging his cock to fill her more deeply, and one of his hands slid from her hip around to the juncture of her thighs, finding the throbbing bundle of nerves there. “Oh god,” she bit out, grinding against him. His other hand went to her chest, pinching her nipples through the fabric of her dress as he started pumping into her. She braced her hands against the desk for leverage and met his thrusts with her own. 

Unlike the first time, it was rough and desperate right from the start. Without discussing it, they both knew this time had to be different; things had changed, and they couldn’t go back. But that didn’t stop Oliver from reveling in the familiarity of her skin under his fingertips as he fucked into her, or from letting out a tiny sigh of triumph when he seemed to know exactly how to touch her. 

When the desk Felicity was leaning on began to squeak against the floor in protest, Oliver began to speak into her ear, his strained voice coming out between grunts. “You be sure to tell Palmer what we did here, so you can have your fresh start like you said.” Felicity’s body stiffened underneath him, but he kept going. “Tell him how I had you gasping and coming apart with my fingers inside you, how you swallowed my cock and would have swallowed my cum if I hadn’t stopped you.”

She choked out an outraged sound, not quite a word, but he could feel her shock in the tension of her shoulders, even while she never faltered in her counterthrusts against him. 

“Fuck you, Oliver,” she finally managed to say in a furious whisper.

Her response sent a wave of perverse pleasure through him, and he shoved his hand under the top of her dress so his thumb could scrape roughly over her peaked nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp. “Tell him how I spread you wide here, in his own building that used to be mine, and fucked you until you were begging to come.”

In answer, Felicity reached up and fisted one hand tightly into his hair. The sudden move surprised him, but the pain only drove his pleasure higher, causing him to retaliate by sinking his teeth into her shoulder and fucking her harder, his finger on her clit gentle as the rest of him was not. His hips slammed into her, and she drove hers back against him with equal urgency.

Their gasps and the wet sounds of their bodies moving together filled the space as Oliver sought his release, trying to maintain the edge of self-righteous anger that had granted him the courage, or stupidity, to take things this far. She moved hard against him, the fingernails of one hand digging into his thigh, silently urging him on. The abused desk groaned and squeaked under their combined weight, but his fingers strummed over her sensitive nub, teasing and gentle in counterpoint to his pounding thrusts, and without meaning to he began to adapt his movements to encourage more of the soft whimpers that spilled from her lips. 

He was addicted to that sound, he needed it, almost as much as he needed to bury himself inside her, and at first he didn’t realize that his teeth against her shoulder had given way to lips and tongue and gentle kisses. Something deep inside him twisted at the taste of her, the knowledge that, despite everything, she was in his arms again. “Tell him that when I put my lips on you, it's not because you amaze me,” he groaned, “tell him it’s not because you make me want to be the man you see when you look at me.”

She moaned in response to his words, and his hand that had been teasing her breasts pulled out of her dress and drifted lightly down her body, stroking over her firm belly to caress between her thighs, pulling a long, low sob from her throat. Grasping her hip, he pulled her sharply back against him, guiding her movements, and she submitted entirely to his direction.

He drew his lips over the nape of her neck, roughing her tender skin with his stubble, smoothing the burn with soft kisses. One of her hands was still wrapped around his neck, but her fingers were relaxed and stroking deliciously through the small hairs there, sending prickles of sensation along his limbs and reminding him of the absolute power she had over him. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the sparks of pleasure shivering along his skin and the divine grip of her body milking his dick. His hips snapped against her and his fingers worked her clit until both of them were suspended on the precipice, about to fall over the edge into bliss. The pleasure was both exquisite and torturous, a shared intimacy that would begin to be over the moment it reached its peak, and as much as his body demanded release, Oliver suddenly never wanted it to come. Just as felt her begin to shudder and clamp down, he choked out the aching words that clogged in his throat. “Tell him that when I hold you in my arms like this, it’s not because I love you.”

She cried out as soon as the words were out of his mouth, as if his declaration had been a necessary part of her release, and maybe it was. She clamped down around him as he pumped wildly into her, spilling thick ropes of hot semen deep inside her, as deep as he could get. 

They were both silent for several long minutes as they gasped for air, his sweaty body pressed along hers, his dick softening but still heavy inside her. But almost as if he were possessed by the perverse desire to destroy something beautiful, he felt compelled to speak the words that he knew would upset their fragile intimacy. “Tell him that when you came, it could have been anyone, could have even been him. Tell him that you were just blowing off some steam, that you didn't think of me at all. Tell him it was just sex. The best sex _ I’ve _ ever had. I’m sure he’ll understand. It’s not like it means anything, Felicity. I’m sure this time will do the trick.”

He paused, arms still wrapped around her tensed body, thumbs caressing her skin. He could feel her trembling underneath him, but her eyes remained open and staring straight ahead. 

He took a deep breath, inhaling the light scent of her hair and skin, warding off the bitter truth for just a moment longer: that she wasn’t his to keep. Bracing himself, he allowed the nauseating images to surface in his mind, conjuring up the final, bitter words that would give him the strength to walk away. “And when it doesn’t, Felicity...when you’re lying in bed next to him after he’s had his hands on you, had his dick in you, when you’re trying to convince yourself that it’s enough...I’ll still be here. I’ll always be here. For as many fresh starts as you need.”

And then he pulled out of her, tucked himself back into his pants, gathered up his shirt, and left the office without another word while Felicity stood up and made her way to the bathroom. 

He waited for her outside the door to the temporary lair, but she didn’t look at him as she approached. And when they made their way inside, Ray was still buried in his computers. He didn’t even look up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. There will never be enough thanks, hugs, or bread to express my thanks to [stephswims](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephswims/) for the extreme patience and unflagging enthusiasm and insightful commentary and helpful advice etc. etc. she offered while beta-ing this chapter for me. Like, there's no way this would have happened without her. Thank you, I love you (you know all these things already).
> 
> 2\. I really should also call out all the people whose disproportionate enthusiasm for my writing, and for this story in particular, really helped me push through a terrible slump these past few months. (Also, for just, general friendship and encouragement and stuff). I'm going to be lazy and not link to accounts right now, and just say (in no particular order) - Lucy, Meegan, Li, Sascha, Ictanike, Liz, Sara, Em, Bel, Millie, and of course Steph again - thank you so much. Huge social distancing hugs to you all. 
> 
> 3\. I must call specific attention to [LiteraLi's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteraLi) gorgeous banner that is not only awesome in and of itself, but also was another thing that really helped motivate me to finish this chapter. Thank you so much, my dear! 
> 
> 4\. Okay this already sounds like some kind of Academy Award speech for finishing one freaking chapter of a fic xD but the truth is it's been a hard...long while (I'm sure most people can relate), and I dunno, finishing this one freaking chapter is kind of a big deal to me XD Love you all. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> So my track record for WIPs is not stellar, but this one is basically done and just needs editing. I know there's no smut in the first chapter...stay tuned. :) :) :)
> 
> ALSO! I know there's not a huge crowd of people demanding random season 3 smut and angst right now, but I started this for the Tropetastic Awards (https://olicitytropes.tumblr.com/) (and didn't finish in time, whoops), so this is what you're getting right now! I hope people like it anyway. LEMME KNOW PLEASE! My writing self-esteem is truly at a low ebb.


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